French
by icanconquermydemons
Summary: Kurt has had a bad day. Blaine wants to help...if he knew what Kurt was going on about. For Iman. Love you xx


**Drabble of the day number 4. Huh, maybe I should make this like, a thing or something. I dunno.**

**As always, for my amazing girl Iman and anyone else who's going through the hell of revising atm. Hopefully this might brighten your day.**

**Also, fair cop: I speak approximately zero French. All French in this fic has been done via Google Translate. So, yeah...sorry to any French speakers. You have been warned.**

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Blaine jumped as Kurt slammed the door to the loft, face set and hard as he strode in with heavy footfalls echoing against the floor. Blaine jumped in his seat, book bouncing in his lap, as Kurt threw his back down, dance shoes clattering from within as it made contact with the floor with rather more force than necessary.

"E-Everything okay?" Blaine asked, eyebrows up by his hairline and book now clutched protectively to his chest. Kurt just grunted, and mumbled something Blaine couldn't quite make out as he stalked off into the kitchen, pulling open a cupboard door and peering inside. Sighing, Blaine put his book down and followed his fiancé into the kitchen, leaning against the door. "Cheesecake's in the fridge." He offered. Kurt flashed him a brief smile before returning to scowling as he pulled out the aforementioned cheesecake, grabbed a fork, and began digging in, shoulders hunched and lips thin as he bit down hard around the fork. Shaking his head a little, Blaine went around and wrapped his arms around Kurt from behind, nuzzling his face into Kurt's cheek a little. "What's wrong?" He asked softly. Kurt grunted and chose not to reply. So Blaine snuggled nearer. "Please?" He pleaded a little, rubbing his nose against Kurt's soft skin slightly.

"Ugh, just," Kurt tossed his fork down and huffed. "Freaking Rachel Berry..." He muttered, getting up and starting to pace.

And then it was like a dam had burst.

"Honestly, I mean, _mon dieu!_" Kurt exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "_Je veux dire, qui ne croit-elle est? Pavaner comme elle possède l'endroit! Descendre à agir comme le grand je suis , même si je l'ai battue en 'Midnight Madness' et complètement essuyé le plancher avec elle!_ _Ugh cette petite garce! Et puis elle descend à essayer de me donner des conseils sur mes talents de danseur, même si je peux le sol avec son balai! Je veux dire, qui ne croit-elle est, Ginger Rogers? Je peux lui hors danser n'importe quel jour de la semaine. Coincé, peu snob ..." _Kurt threw his hands up and turned to Blaine, a fire blazing in his eyes. _"Je veux dire, ai-je raison ou quoi?"_ He demanded.

Blaine just sat there, slack jawed and more than a little turned on. "Erm..." He floundered. "I..."

"What is it Blaine?" Kurt asked, hands on hips and glowering, already having switched back to English. "I mean, seriously, who does she think she is?"

"Kurt, honey?" Blaine asked, warily approaching his irate fiancé and pulling him into his arms, wrapping his own around Kurt's waist and feeling the soft fabric of his shirt press under his fingers. "I _would _agree with everything you said...if I understood a word of what you said." He admitted.

Kurt's brow furrowed and he shot Blaine a look of pure confusion. "What do you mean?" He asked slowly.

"Sweetie...as impressive as your tirade was, it was...well it was all in French." Blaine admitted. "And, as sexy as you sound when you're speaking French...I can't understand a single word of it." He confessed. Kurt's mouth hung open for a second, before he ducked his head, heat rising in his cheeks as a blush bloomed forth.

"Oh God. I-I had no idea..." He chuckled embarrassedly and rested his head on Blaine's shoulder, the two tightening their embrace even as Kurt breathed in the familiar and comforting scent that was raspberry hairgel, cinnamon and something purely _Blaine_ that he loved so dearly. "It was something my Mom always did." He admitted softly. "She loved France and was fluent in French and sometimes when she got really excited or angry she'd slip into French without even realising..." He whispered, his eyes stinging a little. There was silence in the loft for a moment.

Blaine hugged him closer. "Well..." he paused again. "Unlike your Mom, I don't know a lick of French. I mean, bonjour and au revoir are about my limit." He divulged, listening as Kurt giggled. "So," He pulled back and brushed an affectionate kiss to Kurt's lips. "How about you tell me all of that again in English, we sort it out, and then we go have wild crazy sex to take your mind off it?" he offered.

Kurt smiled at Blaine and leant in for a proper kiss. "You always have the best ideas..." He purred.

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**Wow. All my drabbles end in sex and making out. Woops.**

**Please review! All my love!**


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